


Rest

by CSHfic, VSfic



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fluff, Hurt Sokka (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-War, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSHfic/pseuds/CSHfic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VSfic/pseuds/VSfic
Summary: In the Fire Palace infirmary after the war, Sokka and Zuko talk about the future.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 80
Kudos: 549





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short little one-shot we just realized we'd never posted. Fluff for the sake of fluff :)

Sokka wasn’t sure what woke him—a sound, a dream, or maybe just the quiet. Even with the curtains thrown wide open, the shadows in the corners of the unfamiliar room were deep enough to hide anything. Sokka sucked in a breath, the drowsiness of sleep sweeping out of him. He wasn’t alone. He tried to jolt upward, as his brain registered the red walls, the bedding, the shadow moving at his elbow—

A hand came out and brushed against his, the touch warm and feather-light.

“It’s just me,” Zuko said.

Sokka breathed shakily, and his sleep-addled brain finally caught up with his pounding heart.

He was fine. He was in the Fire Palace infirmary. Everyone was safe. They’d won.

And wasn’t that an impossible thought? _They’d won_ , there was no one left to fight, no reason left to sleep so lightly. He blew out another shaky breath and felt his heartbeat steady as he relaxed. It was one thing to know the war was over, and another thing entirely to _believe_ it. Sokka didn’t think he’d get used to their new normal for a while.

Apparently, neither would Zuko. Sokka turned his hand palm up, so he could lace their fingers together.

“What are you doing up?” Sokka asked.

The only light in the room was the moon shining through the windows. Sokka studied Zuko’s face in the dark. He looked so tired, brow drawn as he leaned forward, suppressing a wince. He settled in the seat at Sokka’s bedside and pulled his arm closer, so that Sokka’s hand was resting in his lap.

Zuko was a bit out of breath—the short walk from his own room to Sokka’s was probably a lot for him, with the wound on his chest. His hair was loose, messy, not at all like the tight Fire Nation topknot expected of the future Fire Lord. Of course, Sokka doubted _he_ looked any better, with his hair down and the exhaustion pressing at the back of his eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Zuko admitted. He frowned guiltily and added, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

Sokka just shook his head. He leaned up and shifted over to meet him, until his good knee was hanging off the edge of the bed, pressed against Zuko’s. The contact was as much for Sokka as it was for Zuko, but the way Zuko leaned into the touch tugged at his heart, anyway.

“Don’t be. I’m glad you’re here,” Sokka said. Zuko had almost died, and here he was apologizing for interrupting Sokka’s beauty sleep. He sighed, tracing a lazy pattern on the back of Zuko’s hand with his thumb. “Shouldn’t _I_ be the one at _your_ bedside?”

Zuko frowned.

“Katara said you shouldn’t be walking around yet,” Zuko said, without a hint of irony, even though he still sounded a bit breathless from the _massive lightning wound on his chest_.

Sokka kindly didn’t call him on it. Zuko still looked hesitant, unsure of himself in a way Sokka didn’t like. The last thing he wanted was to tell him to go back to bed, and for Zuko to take it as a rejection.

Zuko _was_ starting to turn a little gray, though, just from sitting upright in the chair next to Sokka’s bed, which Sokka liked even less. Zuko really should be lying down. He doubted Katara would be happy to see him wandering around the infirmary in the dead of night.

Honestly, he shouldn’t be wandering around the palace in the middle of the night at _all_. There hadn’t been enough time to vet every person who’d served under Ozai and Azula, to test where their loyalties lied, and Zuko was injured. It wasn’t safe, for more than one reason.

That was a problem Sokka could fix, at least. He patted the sheets next to him, scooting over as gingerly as he could. The beds in the medical wing weren’t exactly big enough for two, but Sokka wasn’t going to let something like that stop him.

“Well, come on,” Sokka said. He shoved the blanket down, careful not to jostle his broken leg. It sent an uncomfortable twinge through his knee, anyway. He breathed through it, trying not to let it show on his face.

He didn’t do a very good job, apparently, because Zuko’s frown only deepened with concern.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“So don’t hurt me,” Sokka said.

Zuko rolled his eyes at him, but still seemed uncertain. Sokka reached out and caught his other hand, tugging him forward gently. Zuko huffed quietly, his reluctance giving away, and he finally let Sokka pull him onto the bed.

Zuko shifted awkwardly into the space that Sokka made, clearly trying not to lean too much of his weight on him. Sokka just huffed and pulled him closer. Even if the bed _was_ big enough for personal space, Sokka wouldn’t have let Zuko treat him like he was fragile just because of his stupid leg, nevermind when they were trying to squeeze into a bed for one.

Besides, Katara would be _so_ mad if Sokka knocked Zuko out of bed in the middle of the night. At the very least, she wouldn’t let him live it down. Sokka slid a hand behind Zuko's neck and pulled him in until they were lying tangled together, Zuko’s head on his shoulder, Sokka’s arms curled around his back. He rubbed a slow circle against Zuko’s spine with his thumb, and the tension bled out of him by degrees.

It was nice to just lie together. To learn how to breathe again. It felt like he hadn’t gotten more than a handful of frantic minutes since they’d learned that they’d won and that everyone had made it out the other side, even if some of them were a little worse for wear.

 _Some of them_ including Zuko, who’s been _shot with lightning_ , even if he’d been acting like Sokka’s little broken leg was somehow a much more serious injury.

Zuko worried way too much. Sokka would know. He was the king of overanalyzing things, and it wasn’t hard to miss the worry lines etched on Zuko’s face since the comet. He wasn’t sure if anyone else had noticed, but by now he’d had enough practice watching Zuko to learn his moods. He hadn’t had many chances to catch Zuko alone to ask him about it, though, busy as they were.

Sokka could practically hear Zuko thinking. He reached up and tapped him on the cheek.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Sokka asked.

“Talk about what?” Zuko whispered immediately, fooling neither of them. Sokka leaned back a little, so he could give Zuko the unimpressed look that he deserved.

“I—sorry. Habit,” Zuko said. “I’m fine, though. You don’t need to worry.”

“Well, no,” Sokka agreed. He was going to let the obvious lie slide—of course Zuko wasn’t _fine_ , but maybe he was doing the best he could. Sokka relaxed back onto the mattress, so Zuko didn’t have to look at him if he didn’t want to. “I don’t _need_ to worry. I know you can take care of yourself.” He twisted a bit of Zuko’s hair in his fingers, careful not to tug. “You don’t have to, though. I wanna help.”

For a long moment, Zuko didn’t say anything. It was long enough that he would have thought he’d fallen asleep, if not for the fingers tapping against his arm. Gathering his thoughts, or gathering his nerve.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Zuko said. “Be Fire Lord, I mean.”

Sokka bit back on the urge to scoff, because Zuko would _definitely_ take it the wrong way. That was ridiculous. Zuko would be an amazing Fire Lord.

He also knew that wasn’t what Zuko meant. At least, not completely.

“You can do this,” Sokka said. That he knew for certain, but... “You don’t have to, though.”

He knew it was the right thing to say, when Zuko leaned into him just slightly. Soft hair brushed over Sokka’s bicep.

“Yeah?” Zuko asked. Sokka couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t have to look at him to see the wistful smile tugging at his lips.

They’ve done this before, back at the air temple, on Ember Island, huddled together in the dark. They’d talk about the war, what was coming, their responsibilities, their fears—and when it got to be too much they’d talk about other things, grand plans to leave everything behind and live to see another day.

Daydreams, mostly. It felt real, now.

“‘Course not,” Sokka said immediately. “We could always run away.”

He paused, tilted his chin down to catch a glimpse of the side of Zuko’s face. He was definitely considering it, his mouth turned down just the slightest bit at the corners.

A thought suddenly struck him, and Sokka couldn’t help the dark chuckle that bubbled up in his throat. “Well. _You_ can run, anyway,” he said. “I’ll... catch up, I guess.”

“I’ll carry you,” Zuko said resolutely, and so casually confident that Sokka was positive he would try if he asked. It was almost funny. He could barely stand on his own right now, sweating just from the effort of crossing the medical wing to Sokka’s room. Katara had warned them both what Azula’s lightning had done to his heart. It’d be a long recovery before Zuko was ready to carry anyone.

Still, it was a nice thought.

“You’d give yourself a heart attack if you tried,” Sokka said sweetly. He patted him on the cheek, and Zuko shivered a bit under the cool touch of his hand against his fire-warm skin. Sokka swallowed. “Thank you, though.”

“Probably a bad idea anyway,” Zuko said after a long moment. “Tempting, but...”

He shrugged a little, and Sokka nodded sagely.

“They’ll think I kidnapped you,” Sokka said seriously. “The new Fire Lord, just impossible to resist—”

Zuko snorted. It was _adorable_.

“I know you’re joking, but they probably would think that,” Zuko said. “My father still has supporters, you know. Actually, they’d probably send you a thank-you letter, while the nation falls to anarchy.” Zuko shook his head, sighed, and a little quieter, added, “I can’t leave now.”

“Maybe not forever,” Sokka conceded. “But... your uncle’s been doing this a lot longer than you have. He’d help if you asked.”

“I’m not asking Uncle for anything,” Zuko said. Sokka didn’t have to look at him; he could picture the stubborn scowl just fine.

“I’ll ask him for you. See if I don’t,” Sokka said. “You deserve a break.”

Zuko huffed, a small noise of protest. Sokka was entirely undeterred.

“And… you know, the Southern Water Tribe is nice this time of year,” he said. “Warm. Well, warmer than—anyway. Nice. I’m excited to go home.”

Zuko had tilted his head to look at him, expression soft and a little sad.

“I’m going to have to re-learn how to walk on the ice,” Sokka said, near whispering now. Even in his oldest memories, he’d always been running, climbing, exploring. Now even the idea of trying to force his leg to cooperate long enough to shuffle across the ice to his childhood home filled him with dread.

“It’ll come back to you. I’m sure it’ll be just like riding an ostrich horse,” Zuko said.

“That’s not as universal an experience as you think it is,” Sokka said. He patted the back of Zuko’s head, threaded his fingers through the loose strands of his hair. Zuko made a soft, approving sound, eyes fluttering closed and open again.

“I could use some help,” Sokka said. “Someone to lean on, maybe.”

Zuko hummed. “I’m sure Katara will—”

Sokka huffed a laugh. Zuko trailed off with a hesitant smile, not getting the joke.

“I’m not talking about Katara,” Sokka said, unbearably fond. “I’m talking about you coming with me.”

“Oh,” Zuko’s smile slipped slightly. “I—you know I can’t. I have responsibilities here.”

“They can wait, can’t they? You’re only sixteen. Let your uncle be Fire Lord for a while.”

“It’s not that simple,” Zuko said.

“Why not? Don’t you want to let someone take care of you for a change? For once in your life?” Sokka asked.

“I have,” Zuko said indignantly, and much too quickly to be totally convincing. “I have. In Ba Sing Se, with my uncle, and...” he trailed off, a light flush creeping into his cheeks, but he still managed to say it, “...and you.”

Sokka hummed. “And wasn’t it nice?” he asked.

The silence stretched long between them, broken only by the ghost of Zuko’s breathing against his neck. For a moment Sokka began to wonder if Zuko had fallen asleep. But then he shifted, with the quietest hitch in his breath.

“...Yeah. It’s nice,” Zuko whispered, right against his ear. The heat of his breath made him shiver, “but Uncle… He’s already done so much for me.”

“That’s what parents do, you know,” he said. To Sokka, that felt obvious. To Zuko, not so much.

“I’m not…” Zuko trailed off.

“We don’t have to decide right now,” Sokka said.

He combed his fingers through the soft strands of Zuko’s hair, blunt nails against his skin, until Zuko relaxed again. He could feel his own exhaustion weighing on him, but it wasn’t the bone-deep, drowning exhaustion of constant fighting, tension with no break. It was warm, and comfortable, and full of the promise of rest.

“Just think about it,” Sokka mumbled. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the comments/kudos!


End file.
